


Everything

by luulapants



Series: Things that Start with 'E' [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Epilogue, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Pack Family, Pack Feels, Pack House (Teen Wolf), Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25854619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luulapants/pseuds/luulapants
Summary: Epilogue to Emancipation, Evolution, and Other Things that Start with 'E'. It probably won't make complete sense without reading that, but I think it should be enjoyable even without the context?Derek and Stiles decide to rebuild the Hale house, with the help of their growing pack.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Things that Start with 'E' [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876093
Comments: 18
Kudos: 106





	Everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tiniestawoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestawoo/gifts).



“It’s an amazing lot,” Derek said, leaning back and tipping his face up toward the dappled sunlight drifting through the late spring leaves. He’d gone pale in the winter, more than Stiles had seen him before, but the spots of sunlight clung to his skin wherever they touched, like they were eager to make their home there again. “Basement’s already dug out, foundation is poured, so we wouldn’t have to worry about that. There’s tunnels running from the basement all over the territory.”

Stiles sat in front of Derek in the clearing. The ground was a wash of clover and violets, wagon wheel and wood sorrel. If there had been a lawn here before, it had long since been chased out. With one leg sprawled out, his arm hooked around the other, he studied the old Hale house.

He remembered it looking like something out of a horror movie when he saw it with Peter, but all of his memories with Peter had taken on a horrific patina in retrospect. This image, apparently, had not been twisted so severely by recollection. It still left a twinge of unease inside him.

“It would be nice to have somewhere bigger for the pack,” he agreed cautiously. “Somewhere we don’t have to worry about bugging the neighbors, too.”

“You’re going to need an office pretty soon,” Derek added. “The bookshelf in the living room is about to collapse with everything Deaton’s giving you.”

“Lydia and Scott would definitely want to move in. They’re dying to get out of their parents’ houses,” Stiles added. He imagined a home full of life and noise and energy, people coming and going and fighting over who finished the milk. It would be chaotic, probably overwhelming at times, but good. Stiles had never had a big family before, and he liked the idea of it.

Derek hummed, knocking his foot against Stiles’s thigh idly. “Jordan would keep his place, probably. I don’t know if Malia is ready to move out of her dad’s, but maybe part time. We could give her a room anyway.”

The broken windows and sagging porch stared him down, ominous. “We’d just bulldoze the whole thing and start from the basement, right?” he asked. “Would you try to make it look like before?”

The way Derek looked at the house, Stiles could tell he was trying to overlay his image of his childhood home on top of this burned out husk. It didn’t look like it was going well. Instead of answering, Derek turned to Stiles, brows furrowed. “I know Peter brought you here. Did he… I mean, do you have any bad associations? Did he hurt you here?”

Stiles shook his head. “Nah, it was...” He frowned, not sure how to put it. “I mean, we did… but it was… it was, like, a good day. For him.”

“Stiles, you know you don’t have to minimize things,” Derek interjected.

“No, I’m not, I promise,” Stiles said quickly. “It was a good day. It was like...” Stiles scowled and sighed, willing the words to come together right.

He’d told Derek plenty of the fucked up things that Peter had put him through, but talking about the good times was more difficult. In part because they brought on those same mixed-up contradictions in feelings that had kept him forgiving the man time and time again. He knew Derek understood the severity, that Derek had seen it with his own eyes. But a little part of him felt like admitting to a single positive aspect in the relationship would make him look like a liar, like it hadn’t been that bad after all, and he’d made a big deal out of nothing.

His therapist would tell him that he didn’t owe anyone justifications for his trauma. Hardship isn’t something to weigh and measure. Kindness is a tool of cruelty in the hands of an abuser.

Derek had a hand wrapped around Stiles’s ankle, thumb up the hem of his jeans, massaging just behind the knob of his ankle. He waited for Stiles to put his thoughts to words with a soft, attentive expression.

Stiles licked his lips and said, “One summer when I was a kid, Scott and I really wanted to go to this water park. It was one of those annoying, overpriced, super crowded places where you pay four dollars for a bottle of water and spend half the time standing in line for water slides, you know? So all summer it was, ‘No, no no – it’s too expensive.’ And then right before school started back up, they surprised us with tickets, and we flipped out and we got to go.”

Derek grinned at him, seemingly unconcerned about the change in topic. “How was it?”

“I mean, honestly, I’d probably hate it today. It’s just like I said. Crowded, long lines, all that bullshit. But Scott and I were so pumped up about it, we were like little maniacs. We went on all of the water slides we were old enough to go on, got in trouble for splashing like ten times, and pretty much ran ourselves in circles until we were practically too tired to get back to the car. It was amazing. Probably one of my best memories from being a kid. I remember it and it’s just like… like I remember what the sun felt like on my skin and what the chlorine smelled like and all that shit.”

Stiles rubbed at the back of his neck and looked at Derek. His calm, level expression made it easy to feel calm and level in return. “My foster father Robert was the one that took us,” he said.

They’d talked about Robert mostly in the context of Stiles’s rocky history of custody changes. Derek knew what Robert had done to him and for how long. He knew he’d gone to jail for it.

Derek’s brows drew inward, then he looked down, chewed on his lip, and looked back up, calm again. “It’s still one of your best memories, though,” he summed up, “even though he was there.”

Stiles nodded, glad Derek got what he was going for.

“And the day Peter brought you here was a good day?” Derek asked, gentle.

“Yeah, it was. Maybe our best.”

Derek hesitated, clearly not sure what to say. He settled on, “I’m glad you got a good day.”

Stiles huffed a breath, shrugging. “I don’t know if I am. I mean, obviously I don’t wish I had a bad one, but I feel like every good thing just got me more comfortable with the bad.”

Derek looked over at the house, eyes tracing the scorch patterns that raced up the beams and the remaining siding, the caved-in roof. “The worst thing that ever happened to me happened at this house,” he said.

They’d talked about this, too, about whether Derek should just sell the land instead of hoarding the property like an old battle scar. Stiles shifted and crawled closer, kneeling in the V of Derek’s legs. “But a thousand good things happened to you there,” he said, recalling Derek’s own explanations. “Your whole childhood. Your family. Christmases and birthdays.”

Cupping Stiles’s face in his hand, Derek leaned forward and brushed their lips together. “We can’t let one horrible thing ruin all of the good memories.” He bumped their noses together. “And, just the same, the good memories don’t make the bad things okay.”

* * *

  
  


“Stiles, hurry _up_ ,” Malia snapped. “Even for me, this gets heavy after a while.”

Stiles didn’t even glance up from his work. “Oh, yes,” he deadpanned, “let me just rush through the super complicated magical runes. That won’t backfire on us at all.” He paused his painting to dip the brush back into the black, gooey mixture at his side. “Can you just set it down?”

“Don’t you dare!” Derek called from the other side of the house. “If that drywall gets wet, I swear to god, I’ll live here by myself and you can all stay with your parents.”

“Hey!” Stiles protested, peeking over the top of the drywall board. “What about - ?”

“Or with Scott’s parent,” Derek added.

“Stiles, _hurry_ ,” Malia whined.

He traced the last lines on the rune and murmured a few words of intent.

“Now?” she demanded.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Stiles agreed, grabbing his goo and scrambling out of her way. He turned around just in time to see her tilting the board into place, runes facing away from them. Snatching the drill off the floor, he hurried over to put the screws in while Malia held it steady.

“Good?” she asked, slowly pulling her hands away.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, let me just...”

He placed both hands against the plain white board and closed his eyes. Once his mind had latched onto the energy of the rune in front of it, it raced immediately to the others, placed behind drywall on all sides of the house. It felt like dragging a string between them, pulling taught and chaining them together. A pulse of energy pushed out at him from behind the board, throwing him backward like a shock wave. It would have knocked him on his ass if not for a pair of strong hands under his arms.

“I take it that means it worked?”

Stiles looked up, still hanging in Derek’s grip, and found soft hazel eyes gazing down at him. A surge of warmth spread through him as he got back to his feet. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Derek and Malia’s heads both whipped toward the front door in unison. Moments later, Stiles heard a car door slam, then footsteps on the front porch.

“Hey, what was that!” Scott called as he hurried inside.

Kira barreled straight into Scott’s back on her way in, yelling, “There was this crazy sonic boom sort of thing! It came right down the driveway!”

“Relax,” Derek said, the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. “It was just the wards going up.”

Scott’s eyes went impossibly wider as he turned to Stiles. “Noooo! I missed it?”

Malia snorted. “You missed holding up a piece of drywall for fifteen minutes, too.” She eyed their suspiciously empty hands. “You did get the food, right? I’m starving. I’m gonna eat one of _you_ if you didn’t bring food.” She said it in a tone so stern that Stiles felt just the slightest anxiety that she might have meant it.

“It’s in the car,” Kira assured her, then darted back out the door.

Stiles went around to the back door and stuck his head out to yell, “Food’s here!”

Erica burst through the trees first: a machete slung carelessly over one shoulder, hair pulled high into a ponytail, and what Stiles was pretty sure was one of _his_ flannels unbuttoned halfway down her chest to reveal a whole lot of nothing underneath. She crossed the yard at an impossible speed, stopping only to set the machete down before climbing the back steps.

“How goes the landscaping?” he asked.

“Fantastic!” She strode past him toward the others.

“Oh my god, what are you wearing?” Kira blurted as she walked in the front door, arms loaded down with pizza boxes.

“It’s lumberjack chic,” Erica insisted.

“It’s something,” Derek snorted.

Stiles looked out back again just in time to see Lydia and Jordan emerge from the trees, looking decidedly less fantastic. Lydia was waving her arms frantically, swatting away bugs. Jordan had sweat through the front of his shirt. Their faces were red, mouths fixed into scowls.

“I am a human mosquito bite,” Lydia announced as soon as they were near enough. “I change my mind. I’ll hang drywall. I’ll spackle. I’ll sand. I am _not_ going back out there again.”

“I think we’re done for today anyway,” Stiles offered. “Come on, I’ve got some topical Benadryl in the first aid kit. Jordan, you need some, too?”

Jordan, upon closer inspection, had a faintly haunted look about him. “I’m pretty sure the weeds have weeds,” he murmured. “I think some of them are sentient.”

“Demonic foliage,” Stiles remarked. “I’ll have to look into it.”

The pack ate in a circle on the floor of the unfinished kitchen, the largest space with a completed floor. Derek was talking about plans for the full moon, Erica’s first. He wanted the basement in better shape by then, for her and Malia. Jordan was working the full moon shift, so Derek could take it off, but the rest of them would be here for it. Stiles felt the wards around them thrum happily in response to his own satisfaction at the thought: their first full moon in the pack house.

* * *

  
  


“Can I get a ride with you?”

“Yeah, sure, I just gotta stop by –”

“Drive safe! I’ll text you when I get home!”

“Okay, foot on the brake, shift to reverse… Malia, stop holding the wheel so tightly.”

“You do have a permit, right?”

“Hey, did I leave my hoodie inside?”

“Scott! I found it in the car!”

Derek slung his arm around Stiles’s shoulder as they watched the chaos of their pack slowly retreating back down the driveway. Turning so his lips were pressed just below Derek’s ear, Stiles murmured, “Are you sure you want to live with all of those idiots?”

“I heard that!” Scott called through his window.

Snickering, Stiles let his head drop to Derek’s shoulder.

“Are you?” Derek asked, nose pressed to the top of Stiles’s head.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

They went back inside. Derek took the pizza boxes out to the dumpster. Stiles stood next to the skeleton of the staircase, as close to the center of the house as he could get, and reached for the thrum of the wards. They felt stronger now, nurtured by the pack’s presence. The more time they all spent here, the stronger their relationships with one another grew, the stronger the wards would become. Now, they felt like an eager new potential, like they already knew there were great things ahead of them.

“Holding strong?” Derek’s arms wrapped around him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides as he nuzzled into Stiles’s neck.

“They’re good,” Stiles agreed.

“Of course they are.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of Stiles’s jaw, nipped at his earlobe.

Stiles twisted in his arms, hands sliding around the back of Derek’s neck to keep him close. “You know, I have this crazy idea?”

Derek grinned. “What’s that?”

“That I love you.”

Derek pressed him back against the banister and kissed him until Stiles could feel the wards positively singing in response. It felt intense. Good, but intense. It would take some getting used to.

“I have a crazy idea, too,” Derek murmured against his lips.

“Mm?”

But instead of his normal response, Derek simply dropped to his knees in front of Stiles, hands sliding over his thighs where his jeans were bleached with plaster dust.

“That’s a _great_ idea,” Stiles assured him with a laugh.

By the time Derek got his mouth around him, sloppy and eager, the wards in the house felt electric, tingling in the tips of his fingers and somewhere behind his closed eyes. Stiles pushed his hands through Derek’s hair restlessly, gasping his name as his hips strained against Derek’s hold. It was like a feedback loop – the higher his pleasure arced, the more vigorously the house thrummed in response, setting all of his nerves alight.

Derek pulled off, catching one of Stiles’s hands and tugging it down to look at it. When he opened his eyes, Stiles saw that his skin was glowing, orange swirling brightly beneath the surface. Derek looked up at him, eyes shining red.

“It’s the wards,” Stiles explained. “The house.” For, though it was the wards that had sparked it, in a way they had given a will, a soul, to the house itself.

“The house likes us fooling around?” Derek asked, lips quirking in amusement.

Stiles laughed. “A voyeuristic house is a side effect of protection spells. Who knew?”

Stroking Stiles’s cock cautiously, Derek asked, “Does it feel good? Is it overwhelming or anything?”

“No. Actually, I kind of want you to fuck me.”

The hand around his cock tightened like a little spasm, and Derek’s eyes flashed again. He scowled. “I don’t think we have anything in the car. We’re gonna have to start keeping lube here if we have a horny house to appease.”

Stiles nudged him away. “Lie down.” As Derek settled back onto the floor, Stiles tugged his shirt off over his head. He knelt down, straddling Derek’s hips, then leaned forward to tuck his shirt under Derek’s head.

Warm hands slid up over his chest, tracing the fading swirls of light under his skin. Then Derek wrapped a hand around Stiles’s cock again, stroked, and swore as they grew just slightly brighter. “I’m never going to get tired of that,” he murmured.

Shivering under the feedback of Derek’s touch and the energy of the wards, Stiles agreed, “Me neither.” He pushed Derek’s shirt up to bare his stomach, then got to work on his fly while Derek kept trying to distract him with little twists and tugs of his hand. “Oh my _God_ , you’re – ah – so fucking impatient,” Stiles laughed.

“Is this how you feel when you make me wolf out?” Derek asked.

“Let’s see.” Stiles pulled Derek’s cock free of its confines at last and knocked his hand aside to press their lengths together. Beneath him, Derek groaned, back arching and hips rising up under Stiles’s own. Stiles leaned forward and caught their mouths in a syrupy-slow kiss, his hand matching the pace.

The energy rose in his nerves again, skin glowing brighter. He focused on the idea of transference, connection. He imagined the energy flowing freely between himself and Derek, the two of them caught in the net at the center of the house’s newborn soul. Stiles wasn’t sure if it would work until he felt Derek buck beneath him, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest. Stiles pulled back just in time to miss the slip of his fangs, to see the glow of his eyes return.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, breathless. “That’s exactly what it’s like.”

“Fuck. Stiles, it feels...” Derek panted. His hand closed around Stiles’s, urging his pace a little faster.

Stiles nodded, the buzzing under his skin so persistent that he could almost hear it. “I know,” he gasped. “I know.” He rocked his hips forward, fucking into their joined hands. His other hand braced against the dusty floor, holding him over Derek so he could stare down into those wild red eyes, Derek no doubt gazing up at his own orange-yellow ones.

In the moments before he came, Stiles felt an unexpected clarity in the thrum of the wards:

Home, it told him. This is your home.

They lay together afterward, sticky and dusty and out of breath. One of Derek’s big, warm hands traced patterns over Stiles’s bare back, the sweat starting to tickle on his skin.

“What does the house feel like now?” Derek asked, hushed.

Stiles reached out for the wards, but they felt so much quieter in comparison to their uproarious energy just minutes earlier. When he found them, he smiled. “It feels like it has roots,” he said. “Like it’s here to stay.”


End file.
